Page 2 of I was labeled a gold digger

Bruno's face darkened. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means," Victoria said, standing up straight, "that I earn my money honestly. Not like some people!"

"Victoria!" Bruno cut her off, pulling a black card from his wallet. "Just listen to me. Think of it as a sponsorship. You don't have to work in a place like this."

I stood to the side, a silent observer. For people like us, a "place like this" was the best opportunity we could get.

Victoria was trembling with rage. "Bruno!" she shrieked. "I'm not for sale!"

Every eye in the room swiveled to me. Me, in my bunny costume with its barely-there skirt.

Someone coughed awkwardly. "Hey, don't mind her. She didn't mean it like that."

I bit the inside of my cheek so hard I tasted blood. My nails dug into my palms. I was afraid if I let go, I would lunge at her and pull her hair.

Who the hell was she to judge me?

She preached about making her own way, yet she was secretly benefiting from the extra scholarship money Bruno had arranged for her. And from her moral high ground, she had the audacity to mock those of us who were truly struggling in the mud.

"Last time I'm asking. Five million on this card," Bruno said, slapping the black card on the coffee table. "Are you sure you don't want it?"

Victoria sneered. "I earn my money honestly! You think being rich makes you special? Go on, ask anyone. Who would ever love a person like you?"

The room went quiet again.

A humorless laugh escaped Bruno's lips. He grabbed my wrist. "What about you? The card is yours. Do you dare to love me?"

The black card gleamed under the dim lights.

I thought of the IV needle buried in my grandmother's wrist. I thought of the mountain of tuition and fees that were about to crush me.

Dignity? That was a luxury only the rich could afford.

"I dare," I said without hesitation, taking the card from his hand.

Victoria's expression froze. She stared at me, her gaze dropping to Bruno's hand, which was now wrapped possessively around my waist.

"You're pathetic," she spat at me.

Then, for Bruno's benefit, she added, "You'll regret this."

She stalked out, mop in hand, her head held high.

Bruno's friends, however, burst into cheers.

"Out with the old, in with the new!"

"It's about time you moved on, man! What's the point of chasing someone who just throws it back in your face?"

"She's addicted to playing the victim! Turning down good money just to suffer."

"Yeah, this one is much sweeter!"

Yes, I was pathetic. So pathetic that I could see the truth she refused to acknowledge. The special "underprivileged student" spot that magically appeared in last semester's international competition. The extra TA position in the science lab that the professor had hand-picked her for.

I wanted those unseen advantages and privileges, too.

She wanted to be a saint.

Fine. I hope she enjoys her sainthood.

After that night, I became Bruno's official girlfriend. He told me to spend the five million on the card as I pleased, and to let him know if I needed more.

I used his card to pay for my grandmother's hospital stay, pre-loading her account with two million. It would be more than enough.

The moment the transaction notification popped up on my phone, for the first time, I felt the frantic, spinning top of my life begin to slow down. Before this, every day had been a struggle. Two meals a day: a bun and an egg for breakfast, rice and one vegetable dish for lunch. The egg was my only protein. The vegetables were the cheapest on offer at the cafeteria.

One day, I was in line at the cafeteria, deciding to splurge on a meat dish. A short burst of laughter erupted behind me. It was Victoria and her friends, whispering to each other. Their eyes were fixed on the designer cashmere scarf Bruno had given me. It was, undoubtedly, evidence of my gold-digging ways.

When I went to the logistics office to quit my campus jobs, the manager gave me a pointed look. "A young girl like you should focus on being practical."

At the elevator for my weekend English class, I ran into the top student from my department.

"You're in the summer intensive course, too?"

The moment I nodded, I heard whispers from behind me. "She's just buying her way in with her boyfriend's money."

They were right. But I was going to use this shortcut to build my own path.

With money in my pocket, my hostility toward the world began to soften.

Of course, every time I used the card, Bruno got a notification on his phone.

One night, he called me to pick him up from a bar. As I approached the room, I heard his friends talking.

"Not bad, Bruno. This new one actually knows how to spend money. A lot better than the last one!"

Bruno jabbed him in the ribs with his elbow.

"Careful what you wish for," another friend slurred, drunk. "You just got rid of one extreme. Don't end up with a money-sucking vampire on the other end."

Bruno slipped his phone back into his pocket. He'd been looking at the transaction alerts. They were all from the hospital, the cafeteria, tutoring centers. A low chuckle rumbled in his throat.

"She's spending it well," he said, downing his drink in one gulp. "Better than letting it sit in my account like a savings passbook."

When I pushed the door open, they all straightened up, respectfully calling me "sister-in-law." The title was absurd. At best, I was his arm candy, a soulless gift-receiving machine.

Bruno seemed addicted to giving me things. The latest Chanel collection, priceless pearl earrings, a crocodile Birkin bag, entire sets of luxury skincare.

"Dress the part, and people will listen to what you have to say," he told me.

He had said the same thing to Victoria once. She had thrown the coat he'd given her back at him, muttering that it was "too flashy." Then she'd worn her faded, old jacket to a job interview and came back complaining that they hadn't even bothered to look at her resume because she looked too young.

My intimacy with Bruno was limited to holding hands and an arm around my waist. It was as if he just needed someone by his side who knew how to spend money, to complete the picture. And I just happened to desperately need money.

One weekend, while we were out shopping, we ran into Victoria at the mall. She saw the shopping bags hooked on my arm. This time, there was no disdain in her eyes. Only envy.

Bruno awkwardly let go of my hand, as if he wanted to explain something, but the hatred in her eyes silenced him.